


Space enough to grow

by TyrantTirade



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 14:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14263278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrantTirade/pseuds/TyrantTirade
Summary: “C’mon Steve, it's not gonna hurt him,” Bucky pleads  “We’ll make sure it don't,” He says it so matter of factly that Steve already believes him a little bit.





	Space enough to grow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [Mcu Kink bang](https://mcukinkbang.tumblr.com) for [bdrixhaettc's](https://bdrixhaettc.tumblr.com) wonderful art, which you can see [here!](http://mcuafterdark.tumblr.com/post/172717548203/art-winterstarbones-characters-james-bucky) or linked in the fic below.

“C’mon Steve, it's not gonna hurt him,” Bucky pleads “We’ll make sure it don't,” He says it so matter of factly that Steve already believes him a little bit. 

Usually they don’t discuss this thing beforehand. Steve likes to let it just happen.  
It's not like Steves really objecting out of concern for Brocks well being. He's about as durable as them in most respects. Theres very little they could do to Rumlow that would permanently damage him, Steve thinks. He's pretty sure at least. 

Unless that was their intention. The things Brock does or doesn't want don't come into consideration either, not usually.

But he's not about to go out of his way to hurt him. 

Not anymore.

Still though, desire curls in his stomach at the thought of pressing Brock between them, to be able to feel Bucky and him both, getting him wrapped impossibly tight around them. Grinding their dicks together up in his ass. And- god, Steve likes the idea of that.

But still, he hates jumping into shit, hates risking it.

Brocks never really said anything in objection, never really flat out refused them though. So he tries to interpret that in the best way possible. If Rumlow had any real issues with it he would have said something by now, Steve thinks. He hopes so at least.

But still, his dick alone, he knows, is enough to make Rumlow hurt a little. His dick, he knows, has done that to a lot of people. 

Mostly he's just had to stick to his hand. Or when he could, the occasional handjob. Or even more rarely, when he needed something real bad he'd give in and let one of those grateful patriots give him head. ‘After all that you've done for america,’ they would say, ‘it's the least I can do.’ But Steves gotten good at politely declining

Until Bucky came back, at least. And then when Brock came along, now he gets all that he could want. 

He thinks about what he wants a lot, too. Thinks about all that they could do to him. Thinks about all the things that Bucky could do to him. 

And- fuck the idea is so much but it's still so fucking tempting. He knows he's not so big that Rumlow can’t take both of their cocks, even if sometimes he has to work to get it in. It might even be easy.

Sometimes Rumlows’ grunts and discomfort and the way he grits his teeth until he gets used to it is like another source of stimulation to Steve anyway. He likes what he does to him.

Bucky isn't quite as big as Steve, making up for length in thickness.

The both of them though...that's a lot.

“It's like, all this time with the internet, you haven't watched porn?” Bucky starts, “Guys take a helluva lot more than that all the time. Guys that are half his size.” 

Steve stays deliberately casual, trying not to show how bad he kind of wants it. Working on pulling things out of the fridge for their breakfast. 

“If you work him enough he could take your arm Steve. Just google how to do it or somethin’?”

Steve shrugs, figuring that Bucky's probably right, huffing out a breath at the thought.

He doesn't want Bucky to think he's caved though. He knows how the guy can get when he thinks he’s won. 

So instead Steve settles on saying, “We'll see,” and goes on to finish setting up their breakfast.

Bucky doesn’t say anything as they eat, or when they put away the dishes. But as Steve starts to walk out of the kitchen, Bucky speaks loudly, making sure Steve hears him. 

“He can take it- you fuckin’ know he can.”

—  
Rumlow's got a whole team of people watching him. Security, a nurse, a psychologist, people to bring him food, escorts to guide him around the compound. 

Still yet, Steve likes to be the one to check on him the most. 

Not even always for selfish reasons, sometimes he genuinely just wants to make sure he's safe.

Today though, Bucky's still bugging him about the thing. That stupid, stupid idea of his.

But Steve's a fan of stupid ideas. And Brock needs to be checked on anyway.

It's not all selfish.

—  
In his quarters Rumlow is kept under lock and key. 

Not so much like a prisoner, more so like a possession, locked up for his own safety. 

They all know that he has no intentions to escape though. Rumlow's got it good, a full room, four meals a day, a soft bed, protection. 

He's even got recreation time, plenty of things to keep him occupied.

Usually, he spends his time working out though. Runs miles at a time through the compound under close watch. 

He's good at it too, watching him is a real show. He's quick and cut with muscle, runs for hours, effortlessly.

Sometimes Steve will tag along with him. Rumlow doesn't ask him to, he doesn't get much say, but still he makes sure to slow enough for Steve to keep up. Almost like he wants him there.

It's strange though, having someone besides Bucky that he actually has to push to keep up with. 

Brock doesn't talk much anymore, not really ever. But after a run he sometimes smiles at Steve, or pats him on the back. Sweat droplets run from his buzzed head down his temple and his skin shines with it. His muscles are almost as big as Steve's, he's a fucking tank. And god, Steve just wants to fuck him into the ground all the time.

Brocks different than he used to be though. Nothing like back when he was in the strike team. He's more docile. A lot like Bucky after he was kept by Hydra. 

Steve knows from first hand experience how much torture can change a guy. 

Sometimes he thinks maybe that's why Bucky likes him so much too, it's like he's looking at himself. 

—  
The walk to Rumlow's quarters is long and monotonous. The halls get almost sterile that way, bright lights and flat walls and continuous tiled floors that stretch on for what seems like miles. 

It took months after their arrival for he and Bucky to adjust to the halls upon halls, in the place. Even still he gets lost. 

—  
T'challa's done more for them than Steve thinks they deserve sometimes. After everything, his father's death, the confusion with Bucky, his rise as king. He still let them in, kindly, with open arms.

Originally Bucky had wanted cryo. They went through the whole process of it and all but instead he opted out, deciding to try to adjust to living again. 

Steve's never really told him how thankful he is for that. 

Sometimes he's not sure the actual lines of their friendship. 

But he thinks Bucky knows, he hopes so. 

Up until Brock came it was just them, a mutual thing. They took turns and never kissed on the mouth and they did a lot of things together but it's never been a them. 

But Brocks been kind of complicating that.

—  
Approaching Rumlow's quarters is obvious. A pair of guards stand, rifles in hand, in front of the door. Its painted to blend in but Steve's well aware that the room is made, inches thick, of steel and kevlar and compounds that he's not even sure of. 

It's like a fortress within a fortress.

Steve keeps up his pace, pulling out his identification from his breast pocket. He knows it's pretty much unnecessary, but still, the guard nods, keying him in.

Its set up like a small flat, a living area, bedroom, bathroom. All turned into a home over the months that Brock has lived there. Papers are strung out, cluttered. A cold cup of coffee still sits on the counter. It's weird to think that Brock Rumlow is still human, despite how little he seems like it some days.

Steve knows exactly where to find him. He paces through, well aware of the places layout, until he's in the bedroom.

The floor area is relatively large, mostly open space now that Brock has shoved most of the furniture against the walls. 

As expected, Rumlow is at the edge of the room, curling himself up effortlessly into a set of quick, sit ups, on the plush carpeting.

Steve allows himself to lean casually against the door jamb, watching as Brock keeps going, still without a sweat broken. 

He likes the way his body moves, likes seeing his muscles flex and pull and shift as he bends, feet hooked under the bed to keep himself down. 

He's a little pale, skin tinted pink from work, telling that he's probably been at this for awhile. 

But still, he's fucking handsome. One of the most handsome guys that Steve's laid eyes on. He's thought so since he met him.

Now though he's even more. The serum could be blamed maybe, maybe just less exertion. 

Regardless, now he has more clarity to his skin, a little fat on his bones and muscle filled in so he's less gaunt. And that short hair on him, Steve likes that too. 

It's more just for simplicity he knows. When they found him, locked up in what was like a glass display case, he had the hair like that. All shaved down. 

He was almost like a show horse, an exhibit to prove this new breakthrough. 

‘They had found the perfect balance to recreate Captain America,’ he claimed.

Steve still liked the hair. 

Or maybe lack thereof.

—  
“How many are you at?” he asks, watching Brocks head swing back to glance at him and then tilt back up again.

“761, 762, 763-”

“It's like you have nothin’ better to do,” Steve says, chuckling. 

Brock ignores him, continuing on. Because Steve already answered his own question.

He watches for a moment, another ten sit ups that get Rumlow's muscles shifting and flexing. It's beautiful to watch but he's got other things to do. “You almost done?” He asks, trying not to sound impatient. 

Brock shrugs. 

“Bucky wants you.”

Finally Rumlow comes to a stop, laying back into the floor. His arms stay above his head still. But he finally speaks, voice deep and hoarse from lack of use, “When does he not?” 

Steve shakes his head, admitting, “Ain't that the truth.” 

But Rumlow doesn't ask questions further. He knows better than to ask why. 

He rubs a palm over his short hair and lifts himself to standing, grabbing a shirt and sweatpants to quickly pull onto himself. 

Every move he makes is quick and automatic, without question.

Once he's dressed he stands, like he's waiting for Steve, obedient. His hand go into his pockets and he nods towards the door. “Lead the way.”

Steve knows Brocks way of saying, ‘'let's get this done with’ pretty well by now.

—  
The walk to Steve's room is mundane as ever and by the time they get there he's ready to just fucking get at it. Forces himself to be patient. 

Bucky's laid back on his couch, feet up, while some brain dead cartoon plays on the TV. But as soon as he sees Steve come through, Rumlow in tow he's perking up. Just like an excited dog. 

Steve keeps walking, leading Brock towards his bedroom, calling out, “Are you coming?” until he hears Bucky's feet patter against the floor. 

There's not really a reason to drag things on he doesn't think.

—  
Brock knows the routine. He's still a little dirty from his workout, quickly stripping off his shirt. 

Steve already knows his plan but he still says, “You can shower if you'd like,” just to be hospitable.

Brock nods in response and strips bare. 

His body is a fucking piece. Steve's dick responds instantly, thickening up in his pants just by looking at him. 

He's just muscles on muscles, all thick and solid and his skin dark. Much like he and Bucky, he's not got very thick hair throughout his body, maybe the serum. But that just helps show all the cut lines of him. Like a damn sculpture. All of that leads into his dick, big and soft against his together legs and Steve hasn't even gotten to look at his ass yet but Steve's own cock is begging to just to fuck him. To just break him into the ground.

Steve tries to sidetrack himself by thinking about what they're going to need as Brock makes his way into the ensuite.

All he can really imagine though is that body under the water, cleaning himself, getting all ready. Just for them. 

He's never been too great at waiting.

—  
“You wanna get him ready?” Steve asks, throwing down a half-used bottle of slick.

Bucky's in the room too, already quickly shedding off his shirt, his skin familiar and scarred, walking over to Steve's bed to lay down, like he owns the place.

“You should,” Bucky admits, already curling his hand in his shorts to grab at his dick a little. “It'll take too long with me.”

“Cause you're a freak?”

Bucky shrugs, thinking about something as he idly keeps at stroking himself. “Somethin’ like that.”

—  
Brock takes a few minutes to finish up. 

By the time he's out, Bucky's gotten impatient. He's bitten his lip red and nearly edged himself just thinking about getting at that. 

Brock enters from the ensuite and his eyes instantly shoot to Bucky, watching him. Not so much for the show, but scanning, figuring everything out. 

Steve decides to jump into it. “So, Buck here had an idea,” he starts. 

Brock glances towards him, looking down at the bulge in Steve's pants questioningly, “Did he?” He asks. It's less of a question really, more just conversation filler. Trying to seem more invested than he is.

Steve feels his dick chubbing up, wondering why he's even asking, he knows how these things go. 

But still, he asks, “You think you could take us both?” 

Brock blinks, unamused, he always hates questions. “You say that like I've never done that before.”

“No,” Steve corrects, “Together.” His hand gestures from him to Bucky.

Brock stares away blankly, expression unreadable.

Bucky smirks and tosses his head back against the bed, still pulling at his dick, as Steve shoots him a look.

“He's asking if we can put both our cocks in your ass.” Bucky chimes in, giving a slight shrug, “Ya know, double-dicked.”

Steve covers his face from embarrassment by how stupid this whole idea is. 

But Brock seems unphased, he looks at Bucky, flatly and says, “I know what you meant,” making Steve feel even more stupid with how clearly he says it, clinical almost.

Bucky though, he's grinning like an idiot, “And?” 

“What do you expect me to say?” Brock responds, almost aggravated.

He's right though, Steve thinks, they don't expect him to say anything.

Bucky shrugs and just says, “Nothin’ just letting you know the plan.”

—  
Steve gets Brock on all fours on the bed. He holds himself up, relaxed in such a practiced way that it's like he's been trained for it. 

He's cleaned from the shower, ass a little open like he got ready too. 

Steve still likes the feeling of working him over before they fuck him. 

He squirts lube onto his ass, catching it before fingering it into him and Brock doesn't even move, doesn't even alter his breathing. 

He goes through the motions of fingering, one and then two, in twists and pulls until he's got a third and then for safety's sake a little bit of his pinkie in too. 

Brock tenses, trying not to respond but Steve can feel the clench of him, the rise of his ribcage like his breath is catching in his throat. 

He likes it, Steve thinks, God yeah, he likes that. 

From the other side of the bed Bucky watches, face flushed and he's not stroking his dick anymore but he runs his hands around his belly, hot for it. 

—  
Eventually he gets a response out of Brock. He drops his head and huffs out a breath, losing a little bit of that practiced control and that makes Steve want to fuck him bad.  
He pulls his fingers out, wiping the slick off of his hand lazily before stepping to the side. “Come down here buck,” he starts, grabbing the waistband of his pants to get them down. “Let him sit on your dick.”

Bucky grins and pulls himself up, scooting his ass down until he's laying next to Brock, his legs following the edge of the bed and his hair strung out. But he looks at Rumlow like he wants to devour him.

His dick is solid against him until he takes it into his hand, giving it a pull. That smirk of his shows up again, cocky, as he says, “Hop on.” 

Steve's likes it, how full of himself he is now, knowing that it's taken a while to get back to that. 

But Brock clearly doesn't, he grunts, shaking his head before climbing over Bucky supine body like it's a task, coordinated.

It's a good view from behind. His legs are cut with muscle and bend just right as he hovers over Bucky's dick. Bucky strokes it slowly and grips Brocks hip like he wants to yank him down on it. Brock has his ass up and out of the way but he's all open and relaxed and wet with lube and he looks like his ass needs it bad. Like it's begging for something in it.

Steve does his best not to also just yank him down. 

He grabs the lube before getting up behind Brock, settling not quite against him but real close. Quickly he pours some slick on his palm, coating it thoroughly and then stretches his arms around Rumlow, feeling him tense against him.

“Here Buck,” he mumbles, most of it going into Brocks neck, hoping maybe it'll get him shivering. He brings his hand down, blindly wrapping his wet palm around Bucky's cock to slick him up.

Bucky's fucking hard and thick in his hand, dripping just a little. He keens, fucking his hips up and letting his dick slide in Steves grasp. 

Steve let's his mouth linger around Brocks neck for a minute, stroking at Bucky's cock while Brock hovers between them and he's just such a fucking presence, such a focal point in the whole thing. He can't even see Bucky's cock like this but he likes Brock being there, right in the center of them.

He sets a rhythm, keeping a slick twisting motion going long past the point of Bucky being wet enough, liking the whole thing. But his dick is so fucking hard in his grip and he knows the suspense is probably killing Brock. So Steve gives it one last tug before letting it go. 

He's not about to kiss at Brocks neck but he holds his lips close before rumbling, “Fuck him,” just loud enough for Bucky to hear. 

—  
Bucky gets into it, heaving out breaths as Brock rides him quickly. 

To start Brock does all the work, moving his hips up and down like he's made for that kind of thing. Bucky, lazy as usual, said ‘Work for it.’ Brock didn't say anything about it, just started to move. He's real good at that. 

But he's also real good at taking it.

Eventually, like always, Bucky takes over, impatiently thrusting up into him. 

But by now he's really at it, squeezing Brocks sides bruisingly.

Steve gets fully undressed, dick heavy, swinging outward, ignored. But he likes the show. 

He watches, throbbing as Bucky plows up into Brock, pushing a grunt out of him. Fucking him like a possession. Doesn't give a fuck if he breaks him.

Bucky's dick slides in so easily, so quickly. Steve knows that he could just slip right into his ass, then and there. 

He grabs the slick, quickly covering a few fingers to at least get up in there a little bit. 

Rumlow keeps grinding down on Bucky's dick but Steve still manages to press up against his back and slip his finger in. That makes Rumlow groan out and it feels like such a fucking success. 

“Yeah, there you go,” he murmurs, quickly slipping in a second finger. 

Bucky's cock fucks against them and it’s nothing at all to keep them in. Brocks not too tight around the fingers, just loose enough to be ready. 

God yeah, Steve fights his impatience, getting his fingers out to wet his dick with more lube.

—  
He knows he put too much slick, way too fucking much. But god, the wet squeeze when he starts pushing in is nice

Brock lets out a jagged breath, hands shifting around where he's supporting himself. He's all tense and tight but Steve reminds himself that he can take it. He grabs Rumlow by the hip, other hand on his own cock and keeps pushing in against Bucky's cock, while trying to pull Brock back into it. 

“There ya go,” Steve repeats, watching as Brock finally relaxes, meeting less resistance, his shoulders hunching, as his ass gives enough for Steve to fuck in. 

He can feel his own dick grinding against Bucky's, hot and tight, and it's good, it's nice.

Rumlow moves his head, growling deeply as one of his hands balls into a fist against the bed like maybe it hurts, like he's pent up with testosterone. The man is all depth and Steve likes that, he likes the contradiction of this.

Bucky does too, it's been established. He's got his hands against Brocks ribs, grinning up at him like he likes the way that he's in pain. “Go ahead and move Steve,” he says softly. “He'll adjust.”

His dick throbs against Steves and Steve decides, yeah- yeah, he should do that. 

Slowly at first he pulls out, Rumlow's ass pulling with him, and then gently fucks back in. 

Rumlow let's out another huff, this one even more feral than the last, but he doesn't say anything, he's not telling him to stop.

Steve takes that as initiative to move more, quicker this time. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says below him, “Told you he could take it.”

Rumlow breaths out, snarling, angry like a pissed off bull, but his legs spread a little more, enough to accommodate them better.

Bucky's dick stays only about halfway in but Steve fucks his in deep, up until his pelvis is against Brock's ass. 

But with Bucky's dick in there too, it keeps it even tighter than usual. Real fucking tight. Steve wishes he kept it like this.

“How's that feel?” Bucky asks, breaking the breathladen silence. Speaking to Rumlow, not him. 

Still though, Steve wants to tell how good it is, how fucking nice it is to feel their dicks together in there.

Instead Steve grabs onto Brocks hips and fucks in deep, grinning as it pushes another sound from him, pained.

“C’mon, answer me,” Bucky continues.

Brock shifts, dropping his head and his voice is barely there, full of rasp as he flatly says, “It's fine.”

They all three know he's lying through his teeth. 

“Just fine?” Bucky asks, prying. 

“You expect me to like it?” Brock blurts, gritting his teeth as Steve moves his dick in another slow thrust, “It's fine.” 

Steve moves his hands, grabbing onto Brocks ass to spread him, to look down at where he and Bucky have him split open. Where he's just fucking gaped and fucked and used up. Taking it perfectly. “Looks like your ass likes it,” he comments. 

“Bet he's just eating it up,” Bucky adds. He moves his hips up, inward, gripping onto Brocks hips, “You feel that?” 

God- Brock squeezes down around them, loosening up again. Steve's got so much pent up in him so keeping slow has become a chore. He decides to really work in this time, fucking him quicker. Bucky's cock slides against his and Bucky lets out a hum. 

Brock though, He's still trying to adjust. He lifts his hand, putting it into the mattress and growls again, deep and guttural. A fucking monster, letting them fuck him however they want to. Like this beast in a cage.

Steve picks up his pace, railing in smoothly as Brocks body finally allows it. 

Bucky's more focused on Brocks face though, twisted up. He runs his hands up Rumlow's hips and says, “Look at you taking it.” Breathes out, letting his hands smooth over Brocks thighs to grab onto his ass, squeezing the swell of it.

Steve starts fucking him in earnest, he lets his left arm drop, loose at his side and reaches over with his right to grab hold of him again, to pull him back into his thrusts. Make him take it harder and harder. Just fucking destroy him.

Brocks letting out a stream of sounds loosely, less hurt now, more instinctive, deep breaths and weak grunts. Not quite in it but getting there. Like that middle ground between giving up and falling.

But past his shoulder Bucky's fuckin lost. His eyes finally shut, dropping his head back against the mattress to lick at his lips and breathe out sounds like he's just enjoying himself. Gone in the feel of it. 

Steve sees that and wants to keep it up, huffs, fucking in heavily until Brocks turning his head to look at him.

It's like he really does like it now, his mouths open and his eyes look heavy, drunk on it. That just drives Steve to fuck harder, grinding in until Brocks back to dropping his head, grunting out deeply.

“Look at that Buck,” Steve starts, breathless from all the work. “He does like it.”

Slowly Bucky opens his eyes, pupils big but he looks like he's possessed. “I think he does,” he agrees, “Tell us how much you like it Brockie.” 

The rooms full of the steady packing sound of his cock. Brock shrugs, tensing, “It's fine,” he says again, indifferently. His voice is so broken though, punched out with Steves thrusts.

Steve screws in real deep, one quick shove, just to get Brock to let out a snarl, one that tapers off into a deep moan. Show him how fine it is.

Bucky grins below him, curling up his hips to get his dick really grinding into Rumlow's prostate. Sweat runs down his back, through the lines of cut muscle there. More exhausted than he gets from running miles.

“You don't gotta lie,” Bucky says, cocky. But before he can respond Bucky's doing the real thing that sets Brock off, the thing theyre positive that he likes. One of his hands comes in, grabbing onto Brocks cock between them. 

Brocks ribs expand to bring in air, letting out a weak groan as Bucky starts working his cock. And Bucky knows just how he likes it, just how to get him shooting off in no time. 

He laughs as Brock moans, full on, moans, like a bitch, and says, “Tell us how much you love it? You're so fuckin’ hard for it aren't you?” 

Brock doesn't bother responding, just keeps on taking it. But Steve can see the nape of his neck getting red, blushing. 

“Aren't you glad you have us?” Bucky asks, “Didn't know how much you loved cock until us did you? Now you just fuckin’ love it don't you. Taking both our dicks like its nothin’.” 

Brock groans out, long and low, nearly begging, “Yes-” So fucking deep and needy and pathetic as Steve's just fucking aching to fuel that on more. Dizzy with how badly he wants to see him fall apart.

Steve feels him clench down, knowing how close he is and he thinks, yeah he deserves it. Letting them do whatever they want. He deserves to come with both their cocks in his ass. 

That thought alone gets Steve close too though, pushing him on. It's not gonna last, he can barely hold off.

So he really gets too it, saying, “Make him come Buck,” as he fucks as quick as he can move his hips. Pushing to get off by now.

He's nice and loose, wet with slick. And Steve thinks he could just fucking die in it. Bucky's cock smooth and nice against his with Brocks ass wrapped around them. Fuck.

Bucky's arm works quick between them, really pulling on Brocks dick and Brock looks like he's going to just fall over any second, body gonna just slop out from overstimulation.

“You wanna come?” Bucky asks Brock, his own voice deep and possessive. 

Brock nods, breathless. 

“Yeah- you can come,” He says. 

It only takes a few thrusts, just a few more short movement's and he does. Bucky works his dick through it and he tenses, keening out brokenly. His body goes tight, ass vicing down, before dropping forward. 

The heat of his load hits Bucky's chest but all that does is spur Bucky on, just makes him gasp at how tight he gets.

Because God- it's so tight. A squeeze that gets Steve off too. His body stays clenched down. Steve hates to leave it but he thinks it must hurt so he slows down, working into softer thrusts before finally pulling out.

Bucky stays in him though, easily filling him up and he's so loose now. Takes Bucky like he's nothing at all. His ass a fucking mess from Steve's dick fucking him open. 

Steve looks down at that, watching as Bucky takes over, grabbing his asscheeks to pull him open and fuck up into the wreck of him. Bucky's got his teeth grit, eyes heavy. And he fucks him like he wants to mess him up beyond repair, curling himself in deep. Brocks so fucking loose around him that it's like it's nothing at all. 

And god yeah, that's beautiful, Steve thinks. He jerks himself off quickly, dick still wet with lube. Watching as Bucky fucks Brock out, beating his own cock until he's letting it out on Brock's ass. 

His cum hits him in spurts, right where Bucky's fucking up into him. He lets out the last bit, stripping himself, stunned from it, and tries to not fall over. 

Brocks so oversensitized and gone from it that he just drapes his head, voice like gravel as he sobs out quietly.

Bucky keens, pulling Brock deep onto his dick a few more times, fucking him slick with Steves come as he gasps and packs in. Not stopping until he's left a load up in him. Fucked Steve’s up in there too.

He holds him down against his lap, Brock stutters out a breath and squeezes the sheets like the feel of Bucky's come in him has just pushed him over more. And that's just fucking it, like some kind of aftermath they're all left breathless, gone for.

—  
It takes a minute for Bucky to catch up, breathing harshly as he lets loose of his grip on Brock.

Brock takes over, grabbing Bucky's dick to pull it out of him, pulling slowly off of it. 

Steve watches as cum slides out of him, his ass gaped open a little, legs wet and body sweaty. It makes Steve want to fuck it back up into him.

But Steve's cocks getting soft, fucked out for the meantime and he knows that he can't. He wills it down and moves on

Despite Brocks outward indifference, how gruff he is, uncaring. He needs something after all of that. 

And Steve always wants to give it to him.

—  
The first handful of times they did this they would leave him, thinking that he can get by on his own. Bucky had fucked him and then allowed Steve to and once they were done they led him back to his room and left him there. 

Having been locked up for a few years before, Brock regressed into what he was like when they found him. He curled up, vulnerably like a kicked dog and took days to pull out of that. He was compliant that way, completely obedient. But he was also almost like the soldier, in a brainwashed sort of state. Like he was numbed to make things easier on himself. But beneficial as that was to them, Steve became aware of how cruel it was. 

They'd saved him for god sakes, just like Bucky. So what good was it to treat him like a slave. To just fuck him and leave.

So since, he's found that it can be avoided by being good to him. Rumlow's still human after all, he deserves a little care after letting them do so much to him. 

Over time Steves coming to realize that Brocks not as bad as he seems.

“Alright Buck- Up,” he says, gesturing upward until Bucky lazily climbs out of the bed.

“Go get somethin’ to clean him.” 

Rumlow stretches, wincing as he acknowledges the soreness in his ass, slick and cum still wet in him. He brings his hand up and slowly rubs his palm over the short scruff of his hair. 

“You can lay down,” Steve says softly. 

Rumlow nods, looking like he wants to say something snarky, but he instead says, “Thanks cap,” and lies, chest down on the bed. 

His eyes stay open, body tense, as he tries to relax.

Steve decides to sit, to put his palm on Brocks shoulder and massage into it. “You did good,” He says. Steve knows how much Rumlow hates praise, it just makes him uncomfortable at best. He's been trying to find ways around that. 

Even what he just said makes him tense awkwardly. But still, he shrugs, responding, “Just following orders sir.” His voice is jagged, even more hoarse than usual. 

But Steve knows he's just being passive. “Ya know, you're allowed to like it,” he says. 

Rumlow hides his face in the mattress, shrugging again as he mumbles, “I know,” barely audible through the mattress.

Steve been trying to get him to open up. 

Bucky returns with a wet cloth, clean pants already on, probably washed his dick off in the sink like he always does. He scratches his chest sleepily and hands Steve the wet cloth. 

Bucky's always reluctant to show any care to Brock. But still, he sits down, leg against Brocks side, asking “How's your ass feel?” He obviously didn't intend for it to come off as shameful, but somehow it still does. 

Brock moves his head, looking away, and mumbles, “It's fine,” his favorite answer. 

Bucky roll his eyes, “You don't have to keep saying it's fine. You can tell us if it hurts or somethin’ what do you think we're gonna do? Make you suffer?”

Steve shoots a glance to Bucky, scowling as he mouths, “Buck,” scalding him.

Brock actually responds though, he breathes out heavily, shrugging again, “It's not bad,” he admits, quietly. “Sometimes it's alright” His voice is low and whispered and private, like he's ashamed.

But the last thing Steve wants to do is push him, he grabs the warm rag and asks, “Is it okay if i clean you?” Taking Brocks steady nod as a yes. 

He's gentle, moving it over the swell of his ass and the backs of his thighs. 

He eventually has to pull Brocks ass apart, exposing him to wipe the rag where his hole is fucked plient.

Rumloe hisses and lifts his shoulders, clenching his ass as Steve runs the rag from his tailbone down. He's gentle but Brock must be sore, even if he heals like they do.

Bucky settles his flesh palm against his shoulder, trying to settle him down. “You're alright,” he says casually, “How's he gonna clean you off if you won't relax?”

Brocks shoulders shrug a little, hands gripping the bed, but his ass and legs loosen considerably, letting Steve in. 

“There ya go,” Steve murmurs, going back to clean him more. 

He lets out a few more hisses as Steve works, shifting and grunting, especially when Steve gets a finger in him, just because he can. But Bucky always manages to get him to relax. 

“Ah, c'mon, stop that,” he says, “You'll live.” 

Somehow that kind of thing is like Brocks form of affection. Just a little bit of encouragement and he's biting the sheet so Steve can get his ass completely cleaned. 

Steve takes his time, maybe a little too much, but by the time he's done Brocks completely relaxed into the bed, satiated and comfortable. 

It's almost strange to see his muscles not be so tense for once. He's so damn big but he's also real soft. 

He sleeps like a fucking baby.

—  
“Told you it was a good idea,” Bucky mumbles. He's got a water bottle held to his lips loosely. 

Steve focuses on flipping through tv channels. He's not sure if they should really even talk about it since Rumloe is just a few rooms over. But he's got things on his mind. “Do you think he hates it?” 

Bucky glances around, trying to seem uncaring as he shrugs, “Does it matter?”

“I mean- it should,” Steve says. 

“It's not like he doesn't deserve it Steve.”

And that's- Steve's not sure if that's true or not anymore. “Yeah but he's different, you know he is.”

“Maybe,” Bucky starts, shrugging, “But he knows why he does it.” He seems so sure, so positive. 

“I guess,”

“Besides, I think he does like it, just hates admitting it.” 

“I like it,” Steve adds.

“You and I both buddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated, heres my [Tumblr!](https://tyranttirade.tumblr.com)


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